


Let's Dance, M7-97

by N3kkra



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Original Female Railroad Character, Personal Canon, Pre-Paladin Danse, Pre-ghoul Hancock (for a scene), a few swears, pre-game, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9861311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N3kkra/pseuds/N3kkra
Summary: M7-97 was an excellent courser, it probably had to do with how much he actually enjoyed being out in the field. But a Railroad Agent by the name of Valkyrie has set her sights on him and is determined to free him of the shackles he can not see.





	1. A Pain in the Ass

**Author's Note:**

> A super short story about where I imagined Danse came from. I, personally, find that Gen 3 synths not aging pretty unbelievable, so I've goofed that in my personal canon, and this is the backstory I use whenever I write fictions for Danse, thought I'd share it, maybe make a series out of him.

**M7-97**

She was nearby. The bloody handprint on the wall was fresh. M7-97 could almost smell her fear. Just up ahead, those overturned stones are recent, that puddle is just settling down from her stepping in it –he was gaining on her.

            He stepped around the corner and paused. She should be here. It was a dead end, no fire escapes to climb, and a crashed bus to his left would have kept her from continuing up the old road. His eyes narrowed at the ally and he tilted his head just slightly. “H6-43, initialize factory reset. Authorization code Delta-7-2-Kano.” His voice was low, but filled the space around him. As soon as the words fell from his lips there was a thud, and a woman fell out from behind a dumpster.

            He strode forward and placed his laser rifle under his coat while he stepped up to the escaped synth. He knelt down and scooped her up, lifting her up onto his shoulder. He turned and was about to call to be teleported back into the Institute, but stopped himself, his lips pressed into a tight line.

            The sun was high above him in the sky, casting odd shadows down on the cityscape around him, and this part of the city had a forever mist of fog linking the buildings. So he had almost missed seeing her, standing right there under the awning of an old diner. She blended in with the wall, standing still enough that the lightning and fog masked her. If he wouldn’t have looked right at her he would not have noticed her.

            Her arms came up to cross over her chest. He lowered the synth back to the ground carefully.

            “What’re you doing with my friend?”

            He wanted to laugh at that. Friend? She was _friends_ with a synth? “I’m taking her back to the Institute. After I kill you,” he added and grabbed his weapon.

            The woman smirked and grabbed a stealthboy, activating it as she rolled to the ground and faded from his vision. He fired on her, following the blur of her outline. He got her in the side and heard her grunt, but she leapt over the crashed bus with amazing agility.

            M7-97 looked around and then narrowed his eyes behind his black-rimmed sunglasses. When he was sure there were no more witnesses, he returned to H6-43, picking her up and putting her back on his shoulder. Then he called to be relayed back to the Institute.

 

 

            It was raining and M7-97 hated it. It made it harder to track, and it made the leather of his uniform chafe. All he wanted to do was return to the SRB and dry off. But he had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to return until he had this synth.

            He was close now, after a day of tracking, he knew his target was just inside this small town. Goodneighbor, from its reputation, he didn’t find that a very accurate description. He would not be able to simply reclaim him here like he had H6-43. There were too many people, people who would kill them both on sight. M7-97 knew he could take the city if he needed to, but that would be unwise, and it was not a part of his orders. So he would just have to figure out which of the drifters was actually a synth. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

            Before entering the city, he changed out of his uniform. It would draw too much attention, and he was all too happy to be free of the chafing leather. M7-97 stashed his uniform in a footlocker near a super mutant camp. It had been too easy to clear it, but he figured the green box was small enough to be overlooked by most scavvers.

            When he entered the city he nearly gagged at the smell. It was a horrible mix of urine and garbage. His black brows drew together and he headed deeper into the town, eventually finding a bar. It was a good start. Most of the people outside were guards walking around and talking in ways that told him they knew each other. The synth would be alone, or meeting new people. If he was spotted they might recognize his face, but he found that unlikely, he did not wander the Institute often, spending most of his time training or going to the surface.

            The bar had a live singer and a thick cloud of smoke blurring the air. There were a lot of people around, sitting at the tables and bar. He would have to watch them all for some time to get a feeling for which was the synth.

            “Hey there, big guy.”

            M7-97 stiffened and turned. He had heard that voice before. It had been nearly a week, but he remembered it because she’d gotten away, wounded, but escaped. Now she was standing behind him with a playful smirk on her lips. He squared himself on her and looked down into her bright hazel eyes.

            “You.”

            “Got me pretty good,” she complimented and lifted her shirt to show the scar in her ribs. “Good thing I had those stimpaks on me.” His jaw clenched and she shook her head, smiling wider. “You’re hunting another one, aren’t you?”

            “Reclaiming,” he corrected and returned his attention to the space around him. She was only going to distract him from his goal.

            “I know which one it is.”

            His brown eyes fell on her and his black brows narrowed. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me.”

            “Let’s dance.”

            “No.”

            “I’m buying you a drink, then.”

            “I don’t drink.”

            “I wasn’t asking. You want to know who it is? Then you’ll sit with me and drink something.”

            M7-97 frowned at her. He should just kill her and find the synth. He wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t yet. Because of how crowded the bar was? His mouth turned down further and she laughed.

            “Damn you got some pouty lips there,” she smirked and he narrowed his eyes.

            “Get the drink then,” he growled and she nodded, beckoning him to follow with a curling finger over her shoulder.

            He walked behind her, imagining shooting her in the back of the head or taking the knife from his boot and slipping it between her ribs, right into her heart. He could think of something to make it look like an accident….

            “Sit there,” she pointed to a table as the three people sitting at it left in favor of the bar. He obeyed and sat stiffly in the chair, looking at the faces of each of the men in the basement. The synth he was looking for was male, brown haired and blue eyed, appearing to be about eighteen.

            A beer hit the table in front of him roughly and he glanced up at the woman beside him as she took the seat next to him rather than across. He looked at the beer and then at her. “Now you bought me a drink, tell me who it is.”

            “Oh no, I get information if I’m giving you information.”

            He frowned at that, “Whatever I tell you will cost you your life.”

            “You already tried to kill me,” she grinned and sipped her beer. “You still want to, I can see it in those eyes of yours. Take your sunglasses off, you look ridiculous.”

            He lifted them from his eyes and placed them on the back of his neck. “Happy?”

            “Very. Such pretty eyes you have,” she smirked.

            “All the better to hunt you with,” he growled and her brows quirked.

            “We have ourselves a Grim Fairy Tales fan.”

            He sighed and grabbed the beer and took a long gulp before placing it back down on the table. “You’re not going to tell me. I’m not stupid.”

            “Yet you’re here, talking to me.” He felt his hand around the glass tighten and he started to stand. “Hey, I keep my word, I swear I’ll tell you, all right? I just need something of equal value out of you.”

            He stopped and stared at her. What did he have that was of the same worth as the location of a synth? He had things that were far less and far more valuable, but he could not think of a single thing he was willing to tell her that could give him the information he needed. “What is it that you want to know?”

            She smiled and brushed away some of her black hair, tucking it behind her ear, but it fell right back into her face. “I’ll go easy on you, just tell me a few little things, okay?”

            “I am going to go.”

            “No, stop, tell me your name,” she smiled and he narrowed his eyes.

            “My designation is M7-97.”

            She shook her head, “That’s not a name.”

            “That is what I am called, a name is what you’re called, there for it answers your question.” He did not care for this game.

            “Fine, I’m Valkyrie.”

            “I do not care, nor do I want that information.”

            “Well, now you have it,” she smiled and took another sip. He glared and sighed.

            “Very well.” She looked over his face and he frowned at her. “What is causing you to stare?”

            “I just wonder how you’re all so different and yet believe you’re machines,” she shook her head. “You’re people, treated like slaves in that place, and you act like you can’t live without it.”

            Now he understood. “You work for the Railroad.”

            Valkyrie grinned and sipped her beer. “And you’re a courser. The baddest motherfuckers in the Institute.”

            There was a faint swell of pride in his chest when she said that, but he kept his expression even and looked over her features. Her skin was tanned with dark freckles across the bridge of her nose and she had a spot of pale skin around her left eye socket down onto her cheek. Her black hair was messy and tied up with layers falling out and into her face, but not in a totally unpleasant way. “Why would you tell me where a synth is if your goal is to steal them?”

            “Because I could save you.” Her lips curved into that fitting smirk of hers and he narrowed his brows.

            “Save me?”

            “Yes, from the Institute. We’ve only managed to save one courser, but you could be the second. You like it out here, I can tell.” She rested her chin in her hands and he continued to glare at her.

            “You think that I would run away from the Institute to join your little band of rebellious–”

            “I know you won’t just run away. You have to want to leave and so far you don’t want to,” she shrugged. “But you will.”

            “Never,” he growled and stood up. She shook her head and sighed. “Where is the synth?” he hissed lowering his voice as he leaned down toward her, a hand resting on the backrest of her chair and the table in front of her.

            Her hazel eyes fell back on him. “Gone, you’ll never find him in this storm. He left the moment we started talking.”

            He should have known. M7-97 straightened up and glared down at her, removing his glasses from his neck to place them back in front of his eyes as he left her there and returned outside. The rain had gotten worse and her words were true. It would be nearly impossible for him to find the synth now.


	2. A Taste of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M7-97 is trying to resist it, but Valkyrie can tell he wants the gift she's offering him.

**Valkyrie**

            He was cute. Valkyrie had to admit it, which was the number one reason she was so interested in him. Since she saw him grab Brie and drag her back to the Institute, she was on the break of obsessed with him. He was different. It was a bad idea, though, getting so comfortable around him. He could kill her at any time without hesitating, the last thing she needed to do was let her guard down.

            Of course, staring down your sniper rifle’s scope at the back of his head is about as far from ‘letting your guard down’ as you could get.

            “Why don’t we just shoot him?”

            She’d almost forgotten that Horseman was with her. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and lifted a brow. “And miss the chance to save a courser?”

            “He’s not interested, he’s just as bad as the others.”

            “No, look at him, he doesn’t hate the surface like the others. He lives for it,” she smirked and looked back down through the scope to catch him back in her sights. He was tracking something, but it wasn’t a synth, she couldn’t tell what it was yet, but she knew no synths they were saving were coming through here. “He doesn’t think it’s disgusting like the rest of them.”

            She and M7-97 had crossed each other’s paths twelve times now. She narrowly escaped every time. But with each meeting she saw him grow more and more aware of her. Less as an enemy and more as someone out to save him. She could see it was getting to him.

            Horseman sighed and stood up, coming forward to look down at the courser. He lied down beside her and scratched at his beard. “What’s he doing?”

            “Tracking something.”

            “Something? Not a synth?”

            She frowned and then froze. M7-97 looked up right at her, meeting the eye she stared at him with. Her breathing caught when he smirked at her, mocking how she had looked at him so many times. How had he…?

            “He saw us, we have to go!” Horseman jumped to his feet and started to throw supplies together.

            Valkyrie sat still, watching him as he stood there, staring at her. Why was he just…?

            There were flashes behind her and Horseman cried out when the sound of laser rifles buzzed. She didn’t move, she kept her eye on him and then fired. Her bullet hit him in the shoulder and he staggered back.

            Then she was on her feet running, taking the fire escape steps two at a time. The synths behind her tried to follow, but she was down passed the barriers so they couldn’t shoot her through the bars.

            Valkyrie leapt over cars and pushed over half walls. She had to run away from Headquarters, they were much too close. She couldn’t afford for any other agents to be seen. Horseman was dead, or taken…. She shuddered at that thought and rounded a corner–

            Into M7-97’s chest. She hit him so hard she bounced off and fell onto her ass.

            “Valkyrie,” he breathed and lifted his rifle to point right into her face.

            “Sebastian.”

            “What?” he blinked and narrowed his eyes.

            “Your name… you look like a Sebastian to me. M7-97 doesn’t suit you.” She watched his face as he thought about that. “You’re a person, not a slave. You deserve a name….” She saw his clean-shaven jaw clench. Her lips quirked into a smirk and she said, “You should let some scruff grow. And stop slicking back your hair.”

            M7-97 blinked and then looked down at the weapon in his hand. His brown eyes lifted to check their surroundings and then he growled. “Go.”

            “What?” her brows lifted and he glared.

            “Go. Now.”

            Valkyrie leapt to her feet and stepped up to him, slinging her sniper rifle over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

            Then she ran, seeking safety as the courser shot down her pursuing synths. She didn’t know what he would tell his superiors, but she knew what she’d tell hers.

            M7-97 was ready to be freed.

 

 

            It was nearly a month before she saw him again, just when she was worried he had been wiped or killed. He was with another courser, tracking a synth right to Goodneighbor. She could tell by the look on his face he knew that was no coincidence. They were going to catch on if she didn’t do something.

            Valkyrie hated killing them, but when it came down to it, she killed raiders who threatened her and hers, so she had to do the same with the synths. M7-97 was her target, she knew she could get him to safety, away from the Institute. He would do amazing things once he wasn’t pinned under their thumb.

            So she followed them into the town. Right passed the shops, passed the Third Rail, toward the Memory Den. Valkyrie’s heart stammered and she watched as M7-97 looked around, the other courser reached for the door. She couldn’t let them–

            The Railroad agent lifted her sniper rifle and aimed for the base of the courser’s neck. She fired just as M7-97 saw her. He couldn’t react fast enough, though, and his fellow courser hit the ground. She tossed her rifle over her shoulder and threw her arms up as the guards turned on her.

            “He was a synth!”

            M7-97’s eyes flashed wide in shock and guards turned on him too.

            “No! Not him! Sebastian! I’m sorry, I know you thought that was your friend, but it wasn’t! It was a replacement!” she shouted to the courser who was now glaring between the dead synth at his side and the guards pointing tommy guns in his face.

            “You all right, sister?”

            Valkyrie glanced back to see a familiar face. “John,” she breathed and he waved for the guards to back off. Even though he was just a drifter, he held a lot of respect. He got shit done, and people liked that. “How’re things?”

            “Same old,” he chuckled and looked up at the courser who was still being pinned by machine guns.

            “Let the poor guy alone, he just learned his friend was switched with a body snatcher…” John called out.

            They backed off and M7-97 glanced down at his coworker. She only felt slightly bad now that she saw his face, the hidden expression of pain. Valkyrie went to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe now, just come with me.”

            His jaw tightened and she looked him over. His face wasn’t cleanly shaved anymore; instead he had a thick beard coming in that was kept between dusting and stubble. And that horribly slicked back hair was gone, showing volumous black strands that wanted to stand tall and even out his round face. She smiled at that, he’d listened to her.

            “You shouldn’t have killed him,” he frowned and looked at her.

            “With him dead and you missing they’ll assume the same happened to you,” she whispered. “You’re free, come on. Please, Sebastian.”

            His black brows pulled together and he looked up at John over her shoulder, then met her eyes. “All right. Where do you want me?”

            “Just follow me.”


	3. A New Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last step for M7-97.

**M7-97**

            Valkyrie lead him passed L4-12 and into the Memory Den. He watched the synth he had been hunting walk right passed him with a woman at its side, calling him by a name and telling him how she’d found him outside the town with a head wound and that was why he didn’t remember everything. M7-97 frowned at that and then looked at Valkyrie.

            “What’re we doing here?”

            “The safest way to free you is to wipe your memory of the Institute and give you a new past,” she explained as they went to the back of the den and then down some stairs. “Give you a new name and life and then get you out of here so you can live,” she smiled at him and then stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

            “What if I don’t want my memory wiped?”

            “It’s easier to act like you’re not a synth if you don’t know you’re one,” she said and he glared, eyes settling on the memory pod.

            “What will I do then?”

            “We’ll get you out of the Commonwealth, and you’ll start a new life.” He nodded and then raised an eyebrow at her.

            “What of you?”

            “I’ll stay here.”

            This confused him. “Why work so hard to ‘save’ me only to never see me again?”

            Valkyrie grinned and shrugged, “I have a feeling I’ll see you again, Sebastian. But it’s what I do. I don’t do this for me, I do this for you.”

            His jaw tightened and he looked down at the pod again. “Will it hurt?”

            “Nothing you can’t handle, big guy.” She slapped his arm and he looked down at how her brow wiggled at the muscle there. “Now, we need to get you out of those crazy leathers and get you in something more comfortable.”

            A brown flannel and jeans were far more to his liking, but he would never say it out loud. He looked down at himself and then up for the Railroad agent’s approval. She grinned at him, showing dimples in her freckled cheeks.

            “Outstanding,” she breathed and he quirked a brow at the word.

            “I would agree,” he sighed and then relaxed his shoulders. “So my name will be Sebastian?”

            “Yes, Sebastian… Danse.”

            “‘Danse’?”

            “Yeah,” she chuckled and the pod opened. “Do you like it?” He did, he couldn’t be sure why, but it… felt good. He nodded and settled into the pod. “Is there anything you would like to remember? Something we can leave or maybe rework and implement into your new memories?”

            He thought about that and then met her hazel eyes. “What about you?”

            “Oh no, that’s not a good idea,” she shook her head. “You might relapse if we leave any memory of me in you, and that would be bad. You would get flashes of this life and it could really mess up your head and probably kill you,” she smirked and his brows furrowed.

            “All right, then I would prefer to keep my combat training.”

            “That should be easy enough.” Valkyrie knelt beside the pod when it closed and started it up. “Just relax, Bash.”

            “I thought my name was Sebastian?”

            “Bash is short for that.”

            “Oh,” he frowned and looked at the screen in front of him. “Fitting.”

            She chuckled and then told the doctor to start the process. He stiffened and felt the machine start up. Everything went white.

 

 

            His head was pounding. He rubbed at his temples and sat up only to smack his head on glass. A chuckle beside him made him open his eyes and look around. A woman was crouched down on the other side of the glass he’d hit. She was looking at him with bright hazel eyes and a smirk dimpling her cheeks. She was very pretty, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d seen that freckled face before.

            “Who… are you?” he breathed and then touched his forehead. “Where am I?”

            “I found you outside Goodneighbor, you had a nasty gash in your head.” She stood and opened the pod he was lying in. “I was trying to check your brain and make sure you didn’t suffer too much damage, but it appears you may have memory gaps.”

            He stood up and groaned, his head swimming. “I… don’t remember anything.”

            “Your friend said your name was Sebastian Danse when I asked. You were knocked out.” She reached up and touched his forehead. “He said you both are from the Capital Wasteland.”

            That felt right. The name and the place. He couldn’t think of much else, and he glanced around. “My friend? Where is he?”

            “I’ll take you to him,” she smiled and led him out of the building into the trash filled streets of Goodneighbor. He knew of the place, but he had never been here before. How had he gotten so far from home? He shook his head and took the woman’s hand.

            “What is your name?”

            “Valkyrie,” she grinned and turned to a man who approached. “This is Jason Cutler, your friend.”

            “Hey, Bash, you feel better?” he took Sebastian around the shoulders in a tight embrace and rubbed at his black hair. The taller man lifted a brow at the contact, resisting the urge to shy away.

            “I… guess,” he breathed and looked at Valkyrie. “Are you coming with us? Back to the Capital Wasteland?”

            “No, I have to stay here and help people, Bash,” she tilted her head and looked over at Cutler. “Jason here will take good care of you.”

            “Come on, caravan’s gonna be leaving soon.”

            Danse fell in step with Cutler and glanced back over his shoulder at Valkyrie, wondering if he’d ever see her again. She just waved back, a sad smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Have a great day!
> 
> I look forward to seeing you in another fic!


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